


Full

by alifeasvivid



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, PWP, UKUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifeasvivid/pseuds/alifeasvivid
Summary: PWP, pure and simple. UKUS
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 64





	Full

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to satisfy a particular itch I have to see big strong boy America being topped by less tall, less big still very strong England.

America’s shoulders are very broad. They match the rest of his tall, lean, muscular frame. With what little brain-power he currently has to devote to it, England admires the way America’s shoulders shift, the way his whole body leans into deep-throating England’s cock. From his position reclining against a mass of pillows, England threads his fingers into America’s hair, forcing him down as if there were any more for America to take. “ _Fuck_. Yes, yes, my darling,” he praises. He rocks upwards and America doesn’t stop him, in fact he groans loudly and sucks England harder.

Even when America is lying between his legs, humming greedily and moaning like this gives him as much pleasure as it does England, it never fails to impress England just how larger than life America is.

It makes it all the more exhilarating that he allows England to dominate him as he does. England indulges himself in the warmth of America’s mouth, caressing and petting America’s flushed cheeks and purring encouraging nonsense to him. “So good, yes, yes, you’re so good, keep sucking me just like that.”

America’s spacious blue eyes peer up at him as he holds England’s slim hips with his large palms, but rather than try to keep them still, he encourages them to move.

“Ah--! fuck, fuck, Amer-- _ah_!” he gasps as his own, much more slender and lithe body twists and jolts and he’s suddenly so close to orgasm. England is very adept at delayed gratification, but something about America makes him forget to bother with it, sometimes until it’s too late. He remembers that America has next to no self-control when it comes to his delightful oral fixation and he’ll finish England if England doesn’t prevent him from doing so. “America, love, you must stop,” he says, tugging America’s hair until he releases him.

America’s lips are swollen and smeared with pre-cum and he fists his hand around England’s cock, pumping it slowly and somehow manages to look guilelessly up at him. “Why?” he asks, the inklings of a cheeky grin at the corners of his sinful mouth.

England returns the grin with a devilish smirk. “Because I want to watch you ride my cock until you come.” It’s gratifying to see America’s pupils dilate at that.

“Yeah,” America agrees breathlessly. He climbs over England, almost absently rutting against England’s hip. He’s so hard it must be uncomfortable.

England pulls him close and kisses him. He coats his fingers in lube and shifts so that he can press them into America’s arse, he kisses him again when he cries out. “Do what you like, but don’t come yet, understood?” England spreads and stretches and adds one finger after another.

It’s not the best angle for preparing someone, but it’s enough to make America whimper and grind his arousal against England’s, it’s enough to make him desperate. America hardly ever needs much preparation anyway, particularly since he seems to enjoy the slight pain of being filled with England’s cock.

“Good boy,” England murmurs in his ear. “So good for me.” It’s thrilling to have America’s expansive body over him like this, absurd strength held in submission when they both know America could toss England around and simply take from him; it’s thrilling to reduce America, lovely, hot, eager America, to a wanton mess, begging England for pleasure.

“Please,” America whines. “More, need more.” He huffs against England’s neck, pleading his case with sweet, almost chaste kisses—a maddeningly arousing contrast to the way he continues to hump England’s hip. “More, please, I need—.”

As desirous to be ridden as America is to ride him, England decides to show mercy and slowly slips his fingers out of America, placing both palms on America’s thighs. “Yes. Fill yourself up, love.”

America sits up and reaches behind himself to hold England’s arousal at the base. He sighs, eyelids fluttering, as though it is a relief more than anything, and sinks himself down onto England’s cock. “Mmmmmmm,” he exhales until England is completely inside him. His hands grip England’s wrists as he wriggles, settling himself. It takes but a moment before he sobs and throws his head back. “Fuck, there,” he gasps.

England is so enraptured at the sight before him that he nearly forgets to register the feeling of America’s hot, impossibly tight heat around him. When he does register it, he grunts sharply. “Yes, yes, America, you’re so bloody tight, _fuck_.”

America grips England’s wrists harder, trembling from the effort not to move, waiting in agony for permission and England loves him, _adores_ him for it.

“Move, darling. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

America wastes no time in following the command. He rolls his hips, crying and babbling wantonly with abandon as he strikes his prostate with England’s cock over and over again.

England knows neither of them will last very long. It’s a testament to America’s desire to please and to England’s training that he hasn’t come already and England has little inclination to hold himself back much longer either, not after America nearly sucked his brains out.

America doesn’t fuck himself up and down, rather choosing to keep England as far inside himself as possible at all times. He rocks his hips, back and forth, at an increasingly frenetic pace and England reaches out stroke him, but America stops him. “N-no, please… want… wanna come just like this, just f-from you inside me.”

England almost loses it himself at this declaration. He swallows tightly and breathes in deeply just to hold himself back. “Very well, do it then.” He reaches up to cup America’s face, brushing his thumbs over warm, flushed cheeks and groaning in bliss when America's body shivers around him. “Such a good boy. My good boy.”

America cry is strangled in the back of his throat like he might be dying. “God, yes! England, fuck, fuck. Love you,” he babbles as his orgasm shatters him.

England’s eyes are fixed on America’s face as ecstasy spills from his lips and spurts from his cock, coating both their stomachs.

America continues rocking back and forth, slowly, as he floats back down to Earth and catches his breath. “Fill me up, England… please.” He rests against England’s chest and kisses him agaim, sweet and chaste.

To hell with delayed gratification anyway, England thinks. He holds America’s hips in place and pounds into him until his own orgasm slams into him and he buries himself completely inside America and fills him with his cum. “Yessss, yes darling, you’re perfect.” He returns to himself, enveloped in America’s heat, in every possible way.

America cuddles against him, perpetually unaware of their difference in body size, humming and sighing happily, breath only hitching a little as England slips out of him.

“America.”

“That was so awesome.”

“As always, darling, but… well, I can’t breathe, you see.”

America laughs and rolls off of England, only to crush the older nation against him momentarily before relaxing into a more gentle embrace.

England laughs too and kisses America’s cheek. “It was rather awesome, wasn’t it?”


End file.
